For You Here and Now
by PuffleHuff
Summary: Modern-AU It's been a while since they last spoke, but Lagertha has been on Ragnar's mind lately, and he can't for the life of him figure out why. It's starting to be distracting. And then there she is, right in front of him. T for implied drug use.


**Title:** For You Here and Now  
**Rating: **T for implied drug use  
**Characters: **Ragnar, Lagertha, Aslaug, Athelstan, Rollo, Floki, Helga  
**Author's Note: **This is my first Vikings fic, and for whatever reason it immediately turned into an AU. If there are any terms or expressions you don't recognize, you can figure they're either Swedish words or surfing terms. I understand that the show is supposed to be Denmark, but I have Swedish heritage, so that's why I chose to use Swedish forms. A whole complicated back story formed in my head for most of the "main" characters as I was writing this, so I'm considering writing more in this AU.  
**Title Credit: **lyric from _Sweater Weather_, by The Neighbourhood  
**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, plot, etc. are the property of the creators of Vikings. Any original characters, settings and plots are the property of PuffleHuff. PuffleHuff is in no way associated with Vikings and no copyright infringement is intended. This work is an amateur fan effort and no profit is being made.**

* * *

And then she is there, right in front of him. Not a dozen paces away, in line for a burrito at the little food truck on the curb. And Ragnar is transfixed. His eyes trace the familiar curve of her hips, the cream-white line of her legs. The way the blue of her shirt brings out the golden highlights in her flaxen braids. He can practically smell the sunlight on her skin from here...

Aslaug is chattering away beside him, squeezing his arm with one slender hand while the other gesticulates emphatically. She holds court over the accumulated girlfriends scattered around them at the picnic table. Ragnar doesn't hear a word she says, but nods dutifully and smiles in her general direction when he recognizes his own name passing her lips. But his eyes stay on Lagertha, waiting patiently for her lunch.

He wants to go to her, wants to just go and say "Hej." But Aslaug is beside him, hand still holding firmly to his arm. He's expected to wait, he's expected to stay right where he is until she's done telling her story. He is expected to look the part of the perfect boyfriend she has undoubtedly told every one of these people gathered around them he is.

Lagertha receives her food with a gracious smile and turns away, striding off to a different picnic table. And Ragnar tears his eyes away from her retreating figure, the swing of those hips. Forces himself to refocus on the conversation taking place around him. He finds Aslaug suspiciously quiet as another girl is now taking care of the incessant chatter, and he kisses her cheek, doing his best to resettle into the here and now. She smiles sweetly in return.

* * *

Out on the water with his brother and his friends, Ragnar catches another glimpse of the petite woman. She's dropping in on someone he doesn't recognize at this distance. A flash of gold and cream on a bottle-green background. He hears a yelp of protestation as the other surfer bails, and a whoop rise from Lagertha's triumphant throat. He watches her from his perch on the boat's rail, hissing when the wave finally tumbles her and feeling his muscles relax again when her head pops up after her board. The guy she snaked the wave from paddles toward her as she hauls herself onto her board and Ragnar chuckle's to himself as he recognizes Athelstan's grumpy voice.

"Isn't that exactly what you told me never to do," the dark-haired boy is complaining, but Lagertha is just laughing. A clear, warm sound ringing over the water.

* * *

"Is that Lagertha?"

Ragnar startles and grabs tighter to the boat's rail as his brother settles beside him, passing him a cold bottle, head dipping to indicate the pair of surfers paddling back to the line-up.

"Yeah," Ragnar acknowledges, feeling an unfamiliar heat rising in his face at being caught watching the woman.

But Rollo doesn't say anything more, just watches beside him, the pair gazing after the figures in the water. Every time Athelstan manages to catch a worthy wave Lagertha drops in on him, until Athelstan finally attempts to retaliate and ends up getting worked over. Ragnar can feel Rollo tensing up beside him when that happens, but Lagertha manages to pull the boy – and herself – out of harms way before they both get held down, and the brothers relax once more.

Athelstan paddles in after that, and Rollo drifts away to crack another beer with the boys, leaving a transfixed Ragnar to stare after the undeniably enchanting Lagertha. On the next wave she gets right in the barrel and Ragnar would give anything to have a camera in that moment. He wants to capture that image and hold onto it forever. Lagertha, strong and fair, complete joy in every fiber of her being. Bliss on her face.

* * *

Ragnar watches Aslaug as she dances, all long, slender limbs and flying hair. The bonfire paints her in a striking light. She is beautiful, and she makes him happy. But there is something, some small thing that Ragnar can't put his finger on, that leaves him wanting.

He engulfs her in his arms when she tumbles into his lap, and happily kisses her mouth through all her giggles. And then she's off again, slim arms snaking around the waist of some other dancing friend as they all wiggle and writhe together in the firelight.

Floki catches Ragnar's eye and motions him over with the neck of a bottle, and Ragnar joins his friend on the sand. Helga lies with her head in Floki's lap, her face all smiles, with eyes blown out dark as the night around them. She hands Ragnar her unopened drink, which he accepts. Floki offers him a bag of twisted mushroom stems, which he does not accept. His lanky friend just shrugs and makes the bag disappear like a magic trick. Instead he offers Ragnar a bottle opener and extends his own drink in toast.

"Skål," they say as one, glass clinking on glass, and both turn to watch the dancing.

* * *

He sees Athelstan, hauling a board under each arm, trudging up the beach to the car. Ragnar calls out to him and he stops, turning at the sound of his name, and a smile spreads across his face.

"You got worked pretty hard today," Ragnar says as he approaches, and he can see the blush burning on the young face even in the dim light.

"You saw that?" Athelstan asks, all sheepish grin and nervous energy.

But Ragnar doesn't mean to tease him. "Lagertha has always been one to take what she wants," Ragnar offers with a shrug, and the dark-haired man nods. He takes a board from Athelstan and walks with him to the car, Lagertha's old minivan, unmistakable in the car park.

"She likes a challenge, and likes being a challenge," Athelstan muses as they load the boards in through the trunk. Now it's Ragnar's turn to nod in agreement, a smile of recognition forming on his lips.

"Come have a drink with us," Ragnar says, draping himself over Athelstan's shoulder, pulling him along back toward the fire, and meets no protestation.

They settle in the sand with Floki and Helga, drink and talk and laugh.

* * *

And then she is right there, right in front of him. Arms wrapped tight around herself as she stands out on the edge of the water talking with Siggy. He can't hear what they say, but he watches the way she moves, the way her expression changes. A frown here, a furrow of the brow, a smile there. And then Siggy is patting her arm and turning back to the fire, and she stands with her back to him looking out at the dark water.

Ragnar glances about him. Athelstan and Floki argue on some topic or other while Helga giggles happily, tracing Floki's tattoos. Aslaug is amongst her court of giddy girls, a long line of lean beauty, across the fire. Most of the revelers are now clumped in groups of warmth and chatter. But Lagertha stands apart at the water's edge.

And before a second thought can arise, he's pulling himself up and closing the distance between them.

"Lagertha?" He speaks her name and wonders at the question mark he hadn't meant to attach to it.

"Ragnar," she says, her smile tight on her lips, arms crossed about her for warmth. But also, perhaps, in defiance. And he hesitates a moment, weighing his words before he speaks them. Because it's true that she has always been a challenge.

"You were great today," he says. "In the green room." And her smile widens a bit. He can see her replaying the ride in her mind in the shift of expression.

"I was surprised you didn't come out," she says, rubbing hands over her shoulders.

"Yeah," he says, unsure how else to answer. There's that unfamiliar heat in his face again. A blush he wants to will away, that only burns hotter. And the word hangs in the air between them.

He can feel her eyes on his face, but can't return the look. Instead he watches the moonlight glimmer on the tops of tiny waves. But she's still right there beside him, a shivering challenge. The one who got away...

The one he left behind.

"It's getting cold," she says, breaking the silence and turning her back on the water.

And he's reaching out for her, taking hold of her by the arm, pulling her in. Wrapping his arms around her as her back presses into his chest. She only resists for a moment before her shivers shake the both of them. Then her fingers, like icicles, are slipping up his sleeves, searching for warm skin inside his sweater.

She fits nicely there, beneath his chin, inside his sleeves. There's a familiar gravity in her presence. He can feel her strength as they bare each other's weight, hold each other up. Lagertha is there, against him, but she is her own.

Always has been...

Sometimes, he likes a challenge.

* * *

A/N: All feedback and constructive criticism will be much appreciated! Thank you for reading! -The PuffleHuff


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